Let me tell you something about being home. It's wonderful. California is okay. Home is awesome. Today I was sitting in Taco Time listening to country music and watching pickups drive by. Even the occasional stock trailer. One truck even had a 'coon tail tied to the antenna. I felt so at home. I can tell some things have changed: when I was at the park today, I saw some men throw away a couple of Gatorade bottles and instead of thinking how nice it was that they went out their way to actually find a garbage can (old me) I noticed that those bottles were recyclable (CA influence).
I sat in the yard all evening playing with puppies and a kitten (oh, I can't even talk about what happened to the other kitten) and dogs and cats and a calf... Gosh, I didn't even go visit the rabbit on the front porch. The weather was perfect. The trees are gorgeous. My family is here. *happy sigh*
Now, of course, I'll never convince you that this is not hickville. That there is culture here, and it's not all 'coon tail-antennas. Oh well. You just stay in California and there will be more room for me here, in heaven on earth.
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